


Lure

by inkstainedwretch



Category: Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood Play, Lestat's idea of dirty talk, M/M, Polyamory, Post-Body Thief, Vampire Sex, dog snuggling, this probably isn't how the swoon works, vampire anatomy, what the hell is this power dynamic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 12:58:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10514241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkstainedwretch/pseuds/inkstainedwretch
Summary: Lestat wants to take David to bed. That much has been clear for some time. What David can’t seem to wrap his head around is how much more there is to it.(Don’t let the word count fool you. This is about 75% porn.)





	1. Chapter 1

The carnival in Rio was not a quiet affair. It never had been, but with this new sight, this new hearing, it was like seeing a chandelier where once there had been a single candle. The music flowed through the air like smoke, winding its way through the streets and tempting me towards its source. Smells of food I would have adored not even a year ago drifted alongside it, yet I found myself curiously unaffected by them. And the colors! From the magnificently bejeweled dancers to the riotous hues of the decorations hanging from every wall, I had never seen Rio in such color. Not even in daylight.

We had spent the first night dancing through the streets, though now and then one of us would drift off, coming back with our cheeks pinkened. It had been marvelous, and I’d felt so _free_ , feeling my body twist and jump the way it never could have before. Not even in my youth had I been so graceful. Seeing Lestat, watching the way his body flowed with the thump of percussion, watching him embrace Louis from behind only to slide over and kiss me moments later, I’d wondered if he had always been this way.

The second night, Lestat had already been impeccably dressed by the time Louis and I had awoken, and he’d immediately pulled us out into the city to do it all again.

Not tonight, though. Tonight, Lestat had left before I’d woken up, and so I took it upon myself to find my own prey. I knew Louis would not want to join me; he rather hated being seen when he hunted. I tried my hand at what Lestat had called the “little drink”, and I came closer to succeeding, this time. There was still an echo of my old fury, knowing I was a killer now, a monster.

Oh, but the kill was impossibly sweet. I felt a shiver, and not for the first time, thinking that Lestat had felt this way when he’d tasted my blood. I couldn’t hate him for it, not right now, not with the hazy warmth of the hunt still with me. Only for a moment, I gave myself permission to think about it, about the way he’d brought me into the night with a hungry, bloody kiss. A kiss that had tasted like fire and lust. I grimaced, when it began to fade. I found that I sickened myself with increasing frequency, since meeting Lestat.

I landed on the balcony of our hotel suite some time later, finding Lestat sitting cross-legged in one of the shiny armchairs. I couldn’t help but notice just how much his skin had healed, since the night he’d shown up on my floor, naked and charred. He was beautiful, but he had always been beautiful. What made the difference now was that he looked more whole, more like himself. I hoped it wouldn’t be long before he recovered completely.

I took a seat across from him on the stiff hotel sofa, idly considering how tonight should be spent. I wouldn’t voice any of my plans aloud, obviously; the key to handling Lestat (as much as that could be done) was letting him think he was in charge. Of course, as soon as I had taken my seat, he uncrossed his legs just slowly enough to be deliberate, and he gave me a smile I had seen too many times.

“You know, you’re much stronger now,” he said. “Incredibly so.”

Something dreadful twisted in my stomach, and I knew it had nothing to do with how much I had drunk. I was no longer mortal, and neither was he, and we were still having this conversation.

“I am,” I nodded once. “Does that change anything?”

“I think it might,” he leaned forward a little, tilting his head just enough for a curl of hair to fall to the side of his face. He looked irresistible. He nearly always looked irresistible. I’d still managed it for this long, though, hadn’t I?

“I am not taking you to bed, Lestat, no matter what bodies we’re in.”

Lestat huffed loudly, leaning one elbow on the arm of his chair.

“David, what are you so afraid of?” he asked, as though he didn’t know. “Are you still petrified you might lose yourself, somehow? You’re easily a hundred times stronger than Louis, and believe me, he’s managed to keep himself intact.”

“Lestat, I acknowledge my own strength,” I said, doing my best not to sigh. “However, I don’t think you fully understand your own. You’re a maelstrom of energy, one that is frightfully easy to get lost in.”

He looked at me for a long while, his brows furrowed, and if I hadn’t already known about the veil of silence, I’d have thought he was trying to scan me. But then, his eyes widened just a bit, and when he spoke, it was soft and sad.

“You don’t trust me.”

I didn’t speak. I had thought he already knew that. I had thought it obvious. He was my friend, and I loved him, I loved him beyond words, but no. I didn’t trust him. More than that, however, I didn’t trust myself. This was not a decision I was going to let him make for me.

He looked heartbroken.

“David, I’m not going to hurt you. Not that way.”

Again, I didn’t speak, because I didn’t need to. The fact that I sat here with him was enough to refute his statement. He had already hurt me, and I remembered every moment of it, and so did he.

All at once, he stood, walked to the door of the suite, and departed without a sound. The door made a heavy thud as it closed behind him.

I sighed heavily, reaching for the book I thought I had left on the side table, only to find empty air. It was most likely on the nightstand, then, as my mortal habit of reading before bed had yet to leave me. I found it strange, however, that my memory would have failed me, even in this small way. I was a vampire now, after all. My memory was clear enough to terrify me.

Because of this, it did not surprise me much to find Louis stretched out in the middle of the bed, ruddy-cheeked and holding the book in both hands. Had I been seated in one of the armchairs, I would have been able to see him the whole time. As it stood, I knew he had heard every word of that.

Louis was something rather new. He had been there, of course, the first night Lestat had come to me and offered his dark gift. I’d found him rather amusing, standing some distance behind him, one hand on his face, clearly having seen Lestat pull this sort of thing before. I had liked him, or what I knew of him from books and records, but after that, Lestat had come alone. We hadn’t had much time to ourselves, before Lestat had come back to the house in New Orleans.

But, even from those short amounts of time, I trusted Louis. I wasn’t terribly sure I could rely on him, but I trusted him.

He closed the book and handed it to me, and though his expression did not change, I caught the faintest gleam in his bright green eyes as he looked at me. They traveled across me, along the cut of my clothing, the strong shape of my shoulders and chest.

“It looks better on you,” he said, the softest of smiles tugging at his mouth.

“Thank you,” I said, taking the book from him. I made to go back into the living room, but he spoke, again.

“Are you afraid of him?”

I stopped, but did not turn to look at him.

“Of course, aren’t you?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “Do you love him?”

“Yes.”

Now I turned to him. He hadn’t moved. His face was a mask, as it so often was. But then, he looked very deliberately at me, and it was as though his gaze held me in place.

“Do you want him?”

I studied his face for a moment, wondering why he was even asking. Obviously, something in my conversation with Lestat had prompted this, but I wasn’t sure what he intended to accomplish. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to help or merely trying to pull information from me. But, I trusted Louis. At the very least, I trusted him a hell of a lot more than I did Lestat.

“Unbearably,” I said, and I was only a little ashamed of the way my voice shook. It was a fact, an unchangeable fact, that I wanted so fiercely something I knew would destroy me.

He just nodded, and then his eyes lost their focus. I continued into the living room, and though I did my best to read my book, I couldn’t seem to concentrate.

\--

When Lestat finally returned from wherever he’d gone, he walked right past me to where Louis stood gazing out the wide balcony window. I watched as he took Louis by the shoulders and pushed him hard against the wall. He kissed him savagely, pressing the whole of his body up against him, one hand tangled roughly in his hair.

“Fuck me, Louis,” he hissed.

There was a moment of quiet, during which I somehow thought Louis might say something about my presence, or even look at me, since Lestat wasn’t doing that. Nothing. Not a word, not a glance. And then, Louis leaned down and kissed Lestat with equal viciousness. I jumped; in my admittedly short time with the two of them, I had never seen Louis be so rough-handed.

Lestat clutched at Louis with such strength, the fabric of his shirt began to tear. He dragged him into the bedroom, an easy thing since the double doors were open wide. That didn’t change when they entered, not even when Lestat tore Louis’s shirt from him entirely, when he pulled him down and went straight for his throat.

In my armchair, able to see the better part of the bedroom without trouble, I found myself entirely unsurprised. Lestat had never much cared for subtlety.

Louis all but fell to his knees, held up by Lestat’s arms in a way that looked frightfully familiar. He clung to him, a soft moan leaving him as Lestat carried him to the bed, then threw him onto it. With quick, ruthless motions of Lestat’s hands, the remainder of Louis’s clothing disappeared, and on the floor, a large quantity of torn fabric accumulated. It didn’t really matter; lord knew we could afford more, but it certainly spoke to Lestat’s impatience.

He climbed atop Louis, straddling his lap, and then hauled him up by the shoulders until he sat upright. He grabbed at Louis’s hands and put them on the collar of his unbuttoned jacket, leaning in to kiss him and then pulling back sharply. His fang caught Louis’s lip, drawing a high shout from him, and between their mouths, the red stain of blood began to spread.

“Come on,” Lestat hissed, tugging Louis’s hands a bit. “I want to feel you, Louis. Here, here, let me…”

I watched him drag his tongue over his teeth, and then with red dripping from his lips, he took Louis’s face in both hands and kissed him deeply. He caught Louis’s moan in his mouth, but I heard it loud and clear, nonetheless. With a hush of fabric, Lestat’s jacket was gone, and then Louis’s fingers flicked the buttons of his shirt open, one by one. His hands slid slowly over Lestat’s shoulders, and then the shirt was gone, as well. Lestat made another impatient noise and drew back, rolling off of Louis and wrenching at his waistband.

“Is all this formality _really_ necessary – _gah_.”

He threw the whole of it to the floor, taking hold of Louis again and pulling him to the center of the bed. Rolling onto his back, he pulled Louis atop him, and now his kisses were almost sweet. With both arms wrapped lazily around his neck, I saw Lestat’s expression relax, if only a little. He began to murmur, low and seductive, and between words he pressed soft, teasing kisses to Louis’s neck and jaw line.

“Take me, Louis,” he said. “I can see how badly you want me. You’ve been staring at me since we arrived. Make me yours, my beautiful one.”

Not for an instant had I doubted that this aroused me, not since Lestat had shoved Louis against the wall. This moment, however, was the first point where it took considerable effort not to moan aloud. Certainly, I was quite erect, but I was a vampire now; that was my life. There was a persistent ache under the flesh, however, one that was not soothed in the slightest by the way Louis kissed him deeply. I watched his hand travel down Lestat’s body, sliding over the curve of his hip before he spoke again.

“I love you,” he sighed, and then his mouth moved down to Lestat’s neck.

The palm of his hand ghosted across the whole of Lestat’s length, and then it traveled further, beyond my sight. Whatever happened next, I could not see, but I saw clearly the way Louis bit down, heard the wet sound of blood as he drank. I couldn’t help but hear Lestat’s sound of satisfaction, couldn’t help but see the way he bit his lip and hummed with delight, his hips rolling upward.

“I nearly forgot how good you are with your hands,” he whispered.

I blinked. I felt like I had missed something. What was Louis doing down there?

Louis let go of his neck only to bite down again, a bit lower. Lestat shouted again, and he was smiling now, despite the way his eyes pinched shut. I could see the bite marks Louis made, again and again, the blood gleaming red in the soft lamplight. As he moved, I could better see his hand below, or at least the heel of his palm. He curled his hand steadily, his wrist moving back and forth, and I realized he had to have at least two fingers inside of him.

My eyebrows shot up. I nearly said something, nearly demanded an explanation. What the hell was this? You needed some kind of help with that, didn’t you? Did I miss something? Or was vampire physiology really that different? Honestly, I didn’t want to think about it. The whole idea made me a bit queasy, and so I put it out of my mind.

Louis was still kissing across Lestat’s chest, his tongue laving over the bites he had made, but he didn’t make any more. Instead, he kissed lower and lower, slowly, almost worshipfully, and with such tenderness, I wondered for the first time if I should keep watching. There was nothing making me stay here, after all. Nothing but the spellbinding sight of Lestat, the beautiful form of Louis, and my own furious, treacherous arousal.

With his free hand, Louis took hold of Lestat’s leg and brought it closer to his mouth. Lestat reached down and got one hand in his hair, looking down at him with expectant eyes. Louis pressed a kiss to the inside of his thigh, then bit down. Lestat cried aloud, his back hitting the bed again, but then Louis let go just as quickly. He kissed the bite, pressed his tongue to it, and Lestat gave a shivering sigh.

“Nothing tastes like you,” Louis said, sealing his lips over the bite again and sucking at it. “ _Nothing._ ”

Lestat moaned aloud, and whether it was because of Louis’s actions or his words, I honestly couldn’t tell. His hips rolled upward, and when he spoke, his voice was breathless enough that I bit my own tongue to keep quiet. I wanted badly to hear him; I had never heard him speak this way before.

“If you keep doing that, Louis, this will be over before it even begins.”

Louis actually laughed, something I realized I had never seen him do, and I saw the gleam in his eyes from the night before. He smiled, red and glistening, and then laved his tongue over the bite again.

“As though either of us were mortal men,” he said.

Lestat’s other hand joined the first in Louis’s hair, and when Louis bit him this time, his hand began to move with rising speed. Lestat’s head snapped to the side, facing me, curls of gold shining bright on the white hotel sheets. His face...his expression was the strangest combination of tight and relaxed, his mouth fallen slack as shaking sounds of pleasure left him. The bites on his chest had healed, but there was still blood on his lips, and I wanted to taste it, I wanted to bury my teeth in his throat–

I hadn’t released my tongue, as my arousal had mounted, and now my teeth had pierced through it. The ugly squelch of pain startled me just enough that I gasped. My mouth was still shut, it was hardly more than a quick intake of breath, but that didn’t matter. Lestat heard it. His eyes flicked open, and all at once I found myself the focus of that stormy grey-blue gaze. Like the sky before a hurricane. I kept still, kept my mouth closed, feeling it fill with my own blood.

The fiend grinned, licked his lips, and then he had the audacity to _wink_ at me.

Before I could so much as swallow, let alone speak, Lestat’s eyes pinched shut again and he _screamed._ His hips tilted forward, arching his back up off of the bed, and he pulled hard at Louis’s hair. Between gasping breaths, he was shouting, again and again, and across his stomach were streaks of red. I felt vaguely queasy again – I hadn’t thought of that, I hadn’t thought of _any_ of this – but this made more sense. Besides which, whatever else I might have felt was summarily overwhelmed by the desire that whipped through me.

The idea of seeing Lestat break apart like that, under my touch, shouting like that into my ear, was enough to make me shake. I was honestly afraid that Lestat would look at me, again, see the faint tremor in my hands, but he seemed to only have eyes for Louis, now. Louis, gorgeous, gloomy Louis, who had all but jumped upward and captured Lestat’s mouth with his own. A shift of their hips, and Louis was in him, his own cry nearly as loud as Lestat’s. Nearly.

Sitting still had become excruciating. The vampire body felt lust in ways no human could comprehend. This was dangerous, and I knew it, and yet the sight of them was still exquisite. The way they Lestat shuddered, the way his breath hitched in rhythm with Louis’s movements still sent a bolt of lust through me. The way he gripped Louis by the arms and just held on gave me such wonderful, terrible ideas. The sound of his voice gone low and broken with lust, “Louis, _oh_ Louis…” still threatened to pull a moan from my throat.

Louis himself was affecting me, too, something I hadn’t considered before now. The pale curve of his throat, the marvelous shape of his body, hardly ever visible under his clothing, was certainly appealing. The way he moved was so sinuous, yet it had the faintest edge of desperation that I couldn’t get enough of. Even more enticing was the singular need with which he kissed Lestat, the low snarl I heard before his teeth were in Lestat’s neck.

With a loud cry, Lestat did the same, biting into Louis hard enough that I heard the flesh tear. The smell of blood was enough to choke me, and despite the way their mouths were now full, their sounds of pleasure were somehow louder. Lestat’s legs were wrapped around him, his nails now dug so firmly into Louis’s back that little red drops were starting to roll over the skin. I could hear the pounding of their hearts, but even more deafening was the sound of my own.

I wanted this, and I was running out of reasons to convince myself not to ask for it.

Suddenly, Louis gave a loud cry, and his whole body pushed forward, trembling like a statue in an earthquake. Less than a moment later, Lestat cried out, pushing his hips up to meet him, and then came another ragged cry, and another, and I knew. They were pressed together so thoroughly, I couldn’t see, but I knew.

It felt like a small eternity before Lestat let go and let his head drop back onto the bed. He took Louis by the hair and kissed him roughly, which Louis seemed to love, if the way he moaned was anything to go by. Their lips were glistening red, and they must have tasted of each other, I knew. My heart ached, at the look Lestat gave him now.

“My Louis,” Lestat murmured. “My beautiful Louis.”

Louis, who had been rendered frighteningly pliant by their activities, gave a soft whimper and pressed his lips to the spot below Lestat’s ear. His response was soft, so soft that the words were barely words, so soft I hardly heard it, but I did.

“ _Yours_ ,” he whispered, “ _yours, all yours._ ”

Genuine fear poured over me like freezing rain, but then Louis lifted up again, and I saw for a moment how red Lestat’s eyes had become. It was like a fist squeezed around my heart. The spell shattered, and suddenly I felt like nothing but an awkward intruder. Surely, I wasn’t meant to see this. They had to have forgotten I was there, had to believe that I hadn’t heard what Louis had said. They wouldn’t want me to see this.

Envy, not jealousy, but envy, ran through me in a slow, hateful chill. It was too much. I had seen enough. I should leave them alone. I couldn’t stand the sight of them. At least one of those things was true, and I was in no state to figure out which.

While I still could, before they broke me entirely, I stood. Without looking at them, I made for the balcony door. Lestat said something, but I didn’t hear it. I didn’t listen. My body pulsed with shame, with undeniable want, and quickly as I could, I leapt off the balcony railing and into the night.

\--

Louis was already asleep by the time I got back, and couldn’t see Lestat anywhere. I looked like a mess, I knew, streaks of dirt and grass stains smeared across my clothing and skin. It was a wonder they were dry; my hair and skin still smelled of seawater. I had been out too long, I knew; the death sleep was beginning to pull at me. Nevertheless, I kept myself together long enough to indulge in a shower. When I emerged, I found Lestat on the balcony, watching the approaching dawn.

He looked pristine, as though the past few hours had just been a strange dream of mine. What was more was the remarkable calm in his eyes, the leisurely way he approached me. I actually flinched.  I was anxious, as though the time I had spent alone had changed nothing. In a way, it hadn’t; I had done everything I could not to think of what they’d shown me. It was all beginning to pour down on me again, the stone of Sisyphus coming back to the ground.

But, Lestat said nothing of the matter. In fact, he said nothing at all, at first. He kissed me, just once, very gently, and the smile he gave me was only a little sad.

“You should sleep.”

The balcony door closed on its own behind him, as did the bedroom doors when we were both inside. He lay between me and Louis, the way he often did, and I listened to his heart through the cold, solid stone of his chest. When the death sleep took me under, it was with the feeling of his arms wrapped gently around me.


	2. Chapter 2

For two entire nights, my waking thoughts were saturated with them, with the sight of them so entwined. I would see the curve of Louis’s jaw, or hear a satisfied sigh from Lestat, and then I could think of little else. I didn’t even need these little reminders, the images coming unbidden to my mind. On the second night, I spent an inordinate amount of time walking along the seashore, thinking of nothing but how utterly undone Louis had looked. _Yours, all yours_.

If Lestat had meant to entice me by showing me the way Louis loved him, he had rather sabotaged himself, with that. The thing I was most afraid of, painted in rich color before me. It chilled me to the core.

But the chill was vastly overpowered by the fire they had set in me. I wanted them _both_ now, which further complicated things. The low simmer of lust I had always felt for Lestat was scorching now, and there was a need deep within me, the kind the kill didn’t satiate. The touch of my own hands wasn’t enough, not that I’d really expected it to be. Finding time and space enough for that had been a task on its own, and I was starting to think that this whole trip had been a mistake.

No, it hadn’t. I loved Lestat. It was so good to have him here, to dance through the lush debauchery of the carnival. It was good to see that vibrant, bright-burning soul with these new eyes, good to hold him close to me with these new arms. I could easily love Louis, I thought, the reticent, cerebral beauty Lestat so adored. I felt that we had something in common, though I wasn’t sure yet of what. There was potential there. Were Lestat not so persistently...himself, we could have a wonderful thing between the three of us.

“Honestly, David, you’re getting sentimental,” I muttered.

I kept walking, feeling the cold of the tide on my bare feet. The grains of sand seemed so coarse now, so distinct as they molded around the shape of my foot. Now and then, I felt the sharp press of broken glass, but it didn’t concern me. I was stronger now, like Lestat had said.

Oh god, and then there was that. I had clearly spent too long in Lestat’s company, however, because his arguments from a few nights ago were starting to seem reasonable. What was I afraid of, really?

I knew what I _had_ been afraid of, when Lestat had worn the body that I now called mine. I’d been afraid that there would be nothing left of me, that the person who was David Talbot would disappear entirely, consumed by the eternal flame of Lestat. I had been old, then. Not as old as I was now, technically, but I had been near to death. Lestat had hated it, and I had hated how weak it had made me. I rather thought that had been part of why Lestat had turned me, so he would never see me weakened like that again.

The memory of that blood-drenched kiss flared bright in my mind. I could have struck myself; this, I wanted to think of least of all. God, was I never going to taste his blood again, never going to feel his teeth? Was I really never going to feel his lips on my throat, kissing the little wound, murmuring his love for me against my skin? Was I really going to keep myself from what I wanted, and wait until someone took the decision from my grasp, _again_?

With a great swell of revulsion, I realized that was exactly what I had been doing. I’d been waiting for Lestat to do something horrible, the way he’d done before. I had wanted him to turn me, of course I had, but I hadn’t let myself tell him. What kind of person would that have made me, Superior General of the Talamasca, the upright scholars of the supernatural? And so, I had rebuffed Lestat, until he had given me what I’d wanted without my having to ask.

And he had been so shocked at how quickly I had forgiven him. Oh, David you _fool_. Will you ever just let yourself be happy?

That wink, that damnable wink sprang to the front of my mind. It had turned every touch, every kiss, every sweetly-whispered word into an offer. Into a _promise_.

Lestat was not going to make this decision for me. I wouldn’t let him.

I supposed I had better make it myself, then.

\--

Lestat wasn’t in the suite when I arrived, and so I reclined on the sofa. I didn’t bother to find my book, instead gazing out at the blue-black sky through the window. In a city this size, the stars were few in number, but the richness of the dark, the depth and shade of the blackness, was a sight I doubt I’d tire of soon. Louis was reading the book he and I were evidently sharing, resting it on his crossed legs with his usual calm demeanor.

“There’s a bookstore, a few streets over,” he said. “I was going to go there, later. Would you like to join me?”

“Is anyone else invited?” I asked, smiling a bit knowingly.

“No,” he looked at me with amusement shining in his eyes, “but that doesn’t mean no one else will come along.”

I just laughed. “That sounds delightful. Are you leaving now?”

“They closed at eleven,” he turned the page with an almost sensuous languor. “We can go tomorrow.”

“He’ll probably be out, by the time we wake up,” I chuckled, “unless he gets an idea.”

“I suppose neither of us could tell if he had one,” Louis sighed. “I don’t often envy those who can hear thoughts, but if I could only read one person…”

“You read him fairly well, I’d say,” I said.

“Why, thank you,” he turned the page again, his fingertips gliding across it as though he wished to memorize the texture. “You know, he–”

Abruptly, he stopped, and he said no more. A few seconds later, I began to hear footsteps down the hall, and a steady pulse, drawing nearer and nearer until the door to the suite opened. Sometimes, I thought Lestat underestimated Louis’s ability, just a little. His hearing, at least when it came to heartbeats or footfalls, was better than mine. Maybe it came with age.

Lestat breezed into the room at a leisurely, mortal pace, positively covered in glitter and reeking of tobacco smoke. The carnival itself was over, but clearly he had drowned himself in the tourist-magnet afterparties. He pulled his clothes off and threw them to the floor as he walked, little bursts of shimmering debris falling onto the carpet.

He then disappeared into the bedroom, and after a minute I heard the shower running. He was dry when he came back, though, a pair of silk pajama pants slung low on his hips. I was somewhat surprised by this; if he’d decided to lounge around the suite naked, it would not have been the first time.

I lowered my legs to the floor, and he thankfully saw it for the invitation that it was, taking a seat next to me. His smile looked almost drunk, which told me he really had been out in the rush of it. How many kinds of liquor had he tasted tonight, with all of his little drinks?

Deciding to act with a fraction more subtlety than he had two nights prior, I brushed my fingers through his hair. Ah, he had brushed the glitter out in the shower – the water had been to wash it down the drain. Without a word, he leaned in and kissed me, humming happily against my lips.

“I love you, David,” he murmured.

I kissed him again, lingering a bit longer. “Take me to bed, Lestat.”

With a start, he pulled back, looking at me for a long moment, and I had never seen his eyes so wide. He brought both hands to the side of my face, and then came a long, slow, shuddering sigh.

He took hold of my shirt, not with the same violence as he’d done to Louis, but with perhaps even greater urgency. He pulled me as though I weighed nothing, so quickly I hardly had time to see Louis regarding us with a faint smile. Then suddenly, the bedroom doors were closing behind us with a tremendous bang, and he shoved me back with such force, he may as well have thrown me.

I found myself landing on the bed, close enough to the headboard that I leaned back against it instinctively. Lestat was crawling slowly toward me, his eyes glinting, the shift and pull of his muscles carrying the deadly grace of a tiger. Curiously, I wasn’t afraid, even though the grin he was giving me was sharp and hungry.

“Not in the mood to show off?” I asked, glancing at the doors and seeing the little latch had been turned.

He laughed, and it was low and rumbling, and with impeccable grace, he climbed atop me.

“I want you all to myself, tonight,” he purred, his arms sliding over my shoulders.

He shifted his weight, just enough to tilt his hips forward, enough for me to know the silk he wore was very thin. I was severely overdressed, I realized. I couldn’t seem to suppress the low sort of _ah_ that left me, but why was I trying? _This is what you want, David._

His hands undid my shirt, and with torturous slowness, he drew it down my arms. He sighed with want as the skin of my chest was uncovered, as though he didn’t already know what this body looked like. His mouth followed, his lips and tongue pressed to my neck, my collarbone, across my chest, on the curve of my shoulder, on the vein at the crook of my elbow.

I made to reach for his hair, but he held my arms still. His weight on my legs kept me from moving. He moved with such grace, but if I tried to move him, he was like granite. When he looked up at me, it was with another laugh, softer, no less hungry.

“We’re going to enjoy this,” he said. “We’ve waited this long, after all. Don’t be impatient now. Let me unwrap my present.”

He released my arms, and his fingertips slipped under the waistband of my boardshorts. In a flash, they were off, and his pajamas fluttered to the ground, as well. He lifted off my lap, drew me up until I sat almost upright, and then guided me back to lean against the headboard more fully. With his eyes raking over me, a long, low hum of approval reaching my ears, he melted into my lap.

I groaned at the feeling of such complete contact, my skin touching his, his mouth pressed to mine. He grabbed my arm and pulled it up, which I took as permission to hold him. He liked that. His hands were on either side of my face again, as he kissed me, brushing through my hair, tracing the contours of my cheekbones and jaw.

“You don’t know,” he murmured against my lips. “You can’t imagine how badly I want you, David. And you want me, I know. I’ve seen it. Those little flashes of imagination when your guard was down…”

He leaned back and grinned at me.

“I like the way you think.”

My cheeks felt hot, but then his hands were petting gently at my hair, and he was talking before I could put together a reply.

“But you’ve kept me waiting, David, out of nothing but stubborn pride. So, before we discuss any of your ideas, we’re going to try one of mine.”

He lifted my arms from him again, placing them at my sides. He gave the wrists a squeeze that I wasn’t sure I liked, and then his hands came back up to my shoulders. He pressed me firmly against the headboard, leaning in and whispering into my ear. The words were soft, but the weight of them landed like a blow.

“Don’t move.”

He leaned back again, and at long last I found my words. I was _not_ going to just sit here. Heedless of his instruction, I leaned forward with a soft sound of exasperation.

“Lestat, really–”

I was pinned to the headboard by the neck before I could blink. I didn’t see it happen; it just _was_. Lestat’s eyes were hard as steel, one eyebrow lifted, smiling just enough that I could see the edge of his fang. It was a challenge, that look, to which he was just begging me to rise.

“This is the only warning I’m going to give you, David,” he said. “Now, you’re going to enjoy this, I know you are. Trust me.”

I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t breathe, never mind whether I had any need to. I swore I could feel my bones start to bruise, under the pressure of his hand. His smile, god, it gleamed, and I could imagine so clearly what it would feel like buried in my flesh. I was in bed with a predator, one that no hunting rifle could take down.

I cannot, in good faith, tell you of any point in my life when I have ever been more thoroughly aroused.

He released his grip, his fingertips resting gently on my skin, and I stayed still. He made a soft, pleased sort of sound, and then his hand slipped around to the back of my neck. He pulled me to him, with enough carefully measured force that it was clear _he_ was the one moving me.

“Just a taste.”

His breath ghosted over my cheek, and then his teeth were in me. I gasped, did my damnedest not to move, despite how my arms screamed at me to hold him, to keep him there. There was so much I wanted to say, none of it comprised of any discernable words, but it all caught in my throat.

Then, his mouth bit lower, above my collarbone, and again, on my chest. The air was cold on the marks he left, little drops of blood rolling down from them. His hands trailed down after him, razor-edged fingernails sliding over the skin, but not cutting it. When they slid over an open bite, I hissed, and it was painful, keeping myself from so much as tilting my head back. I didn’t _really_ think Lestat would seriously hurt me if I moved again, but I couldn’t forget the ease with which he had held me down.

He was off of my lap, now, unbending my legs and settling them on either side of him. His hands settled on my hips as he lay down, his grip deceptively light. He leaned forward, laved the flat of his tongue up the underside of my shaft, ending it with a flick of his tongue just under the head. He tightened his hands just a little, his nails scratching gently, too gently, and again the moan was cut off before it reached the air. His breath brushed over my skin, when he laughed, and when I opened my eyes to look at him, his eyes flashed with amusement.

“I never told you not to speak,” he said.

My reply was cut off for a moment when he turned his head, and I watched as he sealed his mouth sideways onto the base and slid slowly upward. I was almost ashamed of how loudly I moaned, now.

“Clearly, I was mistaken,” I hissed.

“Hm?” he lifted an eyebrow, and now his tongue flicked back and forth, still nowhere near enough.

“I never saw the devil, in that cafe,” I said. “I’m looking at him right now.”

His mouth lifted from me, and _god_ , I missed it. With an absolutely wicked smile, he leaned in and licked one of the beads of blood from my stomach.

“Sweet talker.”

He took me right into his mouth, and the sound I made was anguished as he drew back. Vampire skin was cold, but inside, where the blood lived, we were _hot_. I had felt it in his kisses, even as a mortal, but to feel it surround me like this… It was far too much to take all at once, and the effort it took not to move was painful. I hated him. I hated him, and I loved him, and I desperately wanted more.

Down again he went, slowly, torturously taking me into that heat, and his nails were digging into my hips, now. All at once, he let me go entirely, and then I felt the cool hiss of his breath on flesh that was far too sensitive. I shouted and looked at him with something close to fury, trying desperately not to give in to the shiver that wanted out of me.

“God, you wretch,” I spat, and I knew he liked it, I could see in his eyes that he liked it, “you _hateful_ thing–”

He gave a loud moan that echoed off my skin.

“Oh, say it again,” he whispered, and then he sealed his lips around the head and swallowed me once more.

Just to let my head fall back, that would be enough. Just to get my hand in his hair, that shining gold hair that swayed gently as he moved. But, his grip was tight, and I remembered the press of my neck into the headboard. More than that, I knew if I moved, this would stop, and I would have done just about anything to keep that from happening.

Except, he did stop, lifted all the way up, and raised an expectant brow. I was ready to kill him, not that I thought I could.

“I believe I just gave you instructions,” he said.

It took a whole second to realize what he was talking about, and when I did, I was well and truly furious with him. That was probably what he wanted.

“ _Damn you_ , Lestat,” I hissed.

He laughed, leaning back down and licking his lips.

“Go on.”

“You’re a monster.”

“I love you, too.”

He took the whole of me all at once, flexing his fingers and leaving scratches in my skin that I hated and adored. My eyes pinched shut, and I gasped, taking a moment to just feel it. I had dreamed of this, as Lestat had said, and the feeling of his mouth was far beyond what my imagination had crafted. The steady pull of his mouth, the slide and flick of his tongue, and his soft, delighted sounds, god, it was good.

I opened my eyes to see him looking at me with such lust. He loved this, seeing what he did to me. And yet, it wasn’t enough. I wanted to touch him. I wanted him to make those beautiful sounds for me. I felt as though he had lied to me, somehow. Where was the touch-hungry ardor I had seen with Louis? But, I steadied myself. _This is Lestat. Let him think he’s the one in charge._

_(Let yourself think it’s really you.)_

“Damn you,” I said again, but my rage had cooled a bit. “You _infuriating_ thing. God, you’re so beautiful. All I want is to touch you; this is _torment_ , Lestat!”

He moaned around me, and I felt it, and I gave him a breathless, shaking cry in return. My body was aching to move, to feel more of him, and if this kept going much longer, there would be tears in my eyes. I prayed it wouldn’t come to that. I could feel, however distantly, the steady pulse of pleasure in me growing stronger, and I was terrified, absolutely terrified, of doing something to make Lestat stop.

“Lestat…” I sighed, trying to say so many things with that single word.

Lestat made a hungry sound and pulled me closer, and I was so close to breaking apart, the only thing to do was say it again.

“Lestat,” I cried, feeling as though my bones would break from the sheer strain of staying still. “God, _Lestat_ –”

It hit me like an ocean wave, like I had to be the cliff face, unmoving, unchanging. Oh, but I burned with it, carnal as the kill and spreading up my body like an electric current. I could do nothing but shout, I couldn’t even shudder, had to keep myself locked in place. It was good, to be sure, but it felt so incomplete.

When it left me completely, when I opened my eyes again, I saw Lestat lift up with a pop and sit upright again. He took me into his arms, pressing incongruously tender kisses to my neck.

“I may never tire,” he murmured, “of the way you say my name.”

He kissed my lips now, and when he looked at me again, his smile had softened.

“That’s enough for tonight,” he said, running a soothing hand over my shoulder. “I want to love you like a friend, now.”

“Does that mean I can move?” I asked flatly.

“Please do,” he said.

In an instant, my arms were around him, my fingers threaded through his impossibly soft hair. I kissed his lips, his jaw, his neck, I even took the lobe of his ear gently between my teeth. The feeling of his skin was like rain on a desert. I couldn’t have enough. If I lived for a thousand years, I could never have enough of him.

“How do you want me, then?” he murmured. “You’ve had my mouth. Do you want my hand? Both of them? Do you want to tug on my hair from behind?”

I gave a trembling sigh, feeling coils of lust winding through me once more. Louis had been right to laugh; neither of us were mortal men. I could scarcely imagine what it would have been like, if we were. With a soft chuckle, Lestat pressed a kiss to the pulse below my jaw.

“I’d offer to ride you, but I imagine you’re tired of sitting still. Go on, then. Which of your little fantasies was your favorite?”

I tucked my face into his neck, breathed deeply and let the scent of his blood flow through me.

“This one, by far,” I said, and I bit down hard on his throat.

I tasted fire again, and violence, and death, and slow, languid lust. It burned its way through me, the pleasure of the kill magnified and shot through with need. The more I drank, the more I wanted, the more I wanted him, the more I loved him.

He grabbed at me, held tightly onto me, and I heard him moaning softly into my ear. I tilted forward, lay him on his back and rolled my hips against him. His moan was louder, this time, and I felt his back curving up off the bed, pressing more fully against me. I felt his knees bend, his legs sliding up my sides. He didn’t say a word, but it was perfectly clear what he wanted.

 _There_ it was. This was the Lestat he had promised me, and god, did I want it. I let him go and kissed him deeply on the mouth, swallowing the long, low moan he gave me.

“Love the way I taste on your lips,” he murmured, and then his eyes flicked to the nightstand. “Go look in that drawer.”

My brows furrowed, but I did so. There was nothing in there but a little plastic bottle, its contents liquid, clear, and obvious. I looked back to see Lestat on his side, his head resting on one hand, his smile nothing short of devilish.

“I bought that for you, you know,” he said. “Don’t think I didn’t see the way we nearly scared you off.”

I blinked, and my eyes went wide. “So, you didn’t have this, when…”

“We didn’t have it in the eighteenth century, either,” Lestat laughed. “David, we’re vampires! All of us! But you’re still such a modern man, still so thoroughly David Talbot, and so in the interest of not _actually_ scaring you off…”

“You want me to fuck you, is what you’re saying.” I said, looking from the little bottle to him. “You bought this so that, should your temptations ever succeed, I would be more comfortable with the idea.”

“The alternative was a five-hour conversation that neither of us wants to have,” he looked pointedly at me. “I know you, David.”

“And I know you, Lestat,” I moved back over to him, a smile pulling at my lips, “and this is the most considerate thing I have _ever_ seen you do.”

“Oh, don’t ruin it,” he laughed, drawing me down to him.

He kissed me deeply, wrapping himself around me again, and I gave a low, hungry moan.

“Have my temptations succeeded, then?” he asked, his voice warm and rich as fresh blood. “Are you going to fuck me? Are you going to make me scream for you?”

Both hands on his shoulders, I pressed him into the mattress with all the strength I had. I took his lower lip between my teeth and bit, then snarled into his mouth as I tasted the bright rush of blood. I was going to be the predator, now.

“I’m going to _consume_ you,” I said.

He all but whimpered, and his eyes glimmered with want as he gazed up at me. I looked away long enough to coat my fingers with his little gift, and then without a word, I slid two of them into him. It was a risk, but a calculated one, and it seemed to pay off. He gasped, cried out, and then cried even louder when I lunged for his neck again. He was clawing at me now, pulling me as close as he could, and after what he’d done, it really wasn’t fair. Why should he be so free to move? The idea of trying to tell Lestat what to do, however, didn’t seem like it would go very well.

As I curled my fingers, slid them slowly in and out (and then fast, for a moment, only to slow down again), it seemed all he could do was hold onto me and wail. I expected him to drink from me, but he never did. I drank from him, though, and I didn’t even try to contain the way I moaned at the taste of him.

“One night,” he said, “not tonight, but one night – _ah_ – you, you are going to make me come with these wonderfully large hands of yours.”

“Why not tonight?” I asked, pressing a bit harder, just for emphasis.

“Because I am going _mad_ , David,” he growled, and I felt his hand pull at the roots of my hair. “You said you’d consume me, now _do it._ ”

I wanted to ask if he was sure, I really did, but I thought better of it. Actually, that’s a lie. The mortal David Talbot would have thought that. The mortal David Talbot would have asked that question, and then begun the aforementioned five-hour discussion. The vampire David Talbot didn’t think of anything but the delicious heat of Lestat’s blood, and of the ache between his legs. And so, I didn’t say a word, didn’t hesitate to withdraw my hand and shift my balance, applying another layer of clear, cool liquid to ease the way.

With a long, steady motion, I slid into him, and the moan that left me was equal parts shock and passion. I’d had a few lovely nights as a mortal in this body, but not as a vampire. Not with Lestat. Did all vampires feel like this, so unfathomably tight? And hot! Hot like his mouth, oh, it was too much. For all that we are statues on the surface, so firm and unyielding…

Lestat’s eyes were wide, almost disbelieving, and then he pinched them tight and let his head fall to the side. He gripped at my arms and went suddenly quiet, the only sound leaving him his rapid, panting breath.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he moaned, his voice strained and rough. “Move. For the love of heaven, _move._ ”

With a growl, I did exactly that, and in moments, Lestat’s legs were locked around my back. I leaned down to kiss him, but stopped short, just close enough to feel his breath. I dragged my tongue along the edge of my fang and let it drip, remembering some story he had told me. When the first few drops of it reached his mouth, he leaned up to meet me, sealing his lips over mine. The sound he made was glorious, the way his arms wrapped around me even sweeter. His tongue slid against mine, and he moaned, high and faintly desperate for more.

I shuddered at the sound of it and pulled away from him. He gave a rather loud whine, his hands coming up to my hair as he tried to pull me back down. A particularly sharp snap of my hips made his head roll backward with a gasp, and I took the moment to work a hand in his hair. I brought him to my neck, heard him gasp again, and felt his hands move out of the way.

“Take it,” I hissed.

He didn’t hesitate. His teeth pierced me, and he drank as though he meant to kill me a second time. One hand held me by the neck, the other scratched at the skin of my back, and he moaned against my skin with each mouthful of blood. I bit into his neck and then let go, making another bite just below it, and then another. Again and again, I covered his skin in gleaming red wounds, kissing and licking at the trails of blood that fell from them. Lestat made a sound that was almost pleading, and though he couldn’t see it, it made me grin.

It was beautiful, all these little red cuts on his skin, the way they shone, the heady scent of his blood. I sucked at the bites, drawing the blood out in little drops. Flashes of pleasure went through me, sparks in the fire already burning through my body. I wanted more, and I knew he wanted more, but wasn’t it fun to have him like this? To feel the way his hips tilted up to meet me, the way he squeezed tight around me when I made another bite?

I felt his body shake a little, heard him make a frantic sound, and then he tried to push my head down. I just laughed, but then his fingers gripped my hair, and his hand was shaking. He was close. For that matter, so was I, and so I latched on hard and fell headfirst into the swoon as I had never felt it.

I had heard of this, the deep, evocative sort of swoon that transferred memories and thoughts like nothing else could. What took me entirely off guard was how connected we were, how much I could feel through the blood. It was as though we were one flesh, as well as one mind. When my blood flowed into Lestat’s mouth, I felt the shock of pleasure it gave him just as keenly as I felt it leaving my veins. I felt his desire, his love, and I heard his thoughts the way I never thought I would again. _Don’t let me go, David. Please don’t let me go._

So, when the coils all snapped inside him, when bliss shot through him the way lightning splits a tree, I felt it. I felt it in his body, tasted it in his blood, and by the time he’d drawn breath enough to scream, it had reached me. It _tore_ through me, and any hope I might have had of prolonging things collapsed. I drove into him, pressing us into the bed enough that I heard the metal springs creak. I could hear nothing but his cries and mine as we shook apart, pulses of pleasure echoing between us again, and again, and again.

It felt like an age before the fire died down, before Lestat released me, and I did the same. I separated us, and immediately Lestat pulled me back to him. He kissed me, and he tasted like me, and I loved it. He pushed me just enough so that we lay on our sides, and with bloody mouths we kissed and kissed. 

“I love you,” I whispered, at some point.

Lestat sighed happily, running his hand down my shoulder, to my arm, finally taking hold of my hand. He brought it to his mouth, and in a shockingly romantic gesture, he pressed his lips to my knuckles.

“David,” he said, a bit dreamily, “you are so perfect.”


	3. Chapter 3

The bookstore was a rather small affair, almost quaint, really. I wasn’t looking for a new book, but I liked the feel of the place. I had been right about Lestat being gone in the evening, and so it was just Louis and myself. We both ended up in front of the used book shelf, of which, unfortunately, there was only one. I’ve always found books much more interesting when I get them secondhand. The story of the book’s old life can be just as interesting as the one printed on the pages.

Louis didn’t even seem to be reading the titles of these, though. Instead, he seemed to be searching out the most worn, yellow-paged volumes he could find. Now and then he would take one, open the front cover, turn perhaps one page, and then replace it. It took three of these actions for me to realize he was looking at the publication dates.

“I try to find the oldest one,” he said, unprompted, after the fifth. “I want to how much time must pass before something is no longer real.”

I didn’t fully understand that statement, honestly, but Louis says things like that from time to time. He had seemed easy to figure out, in the beginning – a deep-thinking, melancholy immortal suffering from a perpetual crisis of faith. But the more time I spent with him, the less sure I became. I rather liked it. 

He also enjoyed silence just as much as conversation, if not more so. That, I very much liked. It made little excursions like this one into such a relaxing activity. We had a wonderful understanding of each other, in our shared quiet, or at the very least that’s how it felt to me.

After some time, he spoke again, sliding another book onto the shelf. He hadn’t even looked at the pages of this one. Just the cover.

“If I asked you to bed,” he said, “would you accept?”

I blinked once, then twice. Louis didn’t even look at me, not that I’d really expected him to.

“Yes,” I said.

“That’s good to hear,” he said. “I’m not asking you, not right now, but it’s good to hear.”

My heart felt rather warm, and I couldn’t help but smile. I took a step towards him, brushed that night-dark hair from his face, and when at last he turned to look at me, I kissed him. He only moved enough to press his lips to mine, in return. When I drew back, he was smiling.

“Take a step back,” he whispered, “perhaps two.”

I was wounded, briefly, wondering if I’d made a serious mistake. Then his eyes flicked toward the front of the store, and I understood. I gave him a silent nod of thanks as I stepped back.

Sure enough, the shop door soon burst open with a loud jangling of bells, and in strode Lestat. He breezed past the shelves and tables, until he reached us at the back. He leaned on my shoulder as though I were a wall, or perhaps a door frame, and over his sunglasses, he regarded us with an arch brow.

“Are we quite finished?” he asked.

Louis glanced briefly at the books in his hands, and then he gave a sort of shrug and dropped them carelessly onto a nearby table.

“Good,” Lestat gave my shoulder a pat. “We’re going home. I’m bored of this city. I miss New Orleans.”

“You miss Mojo,” I said flatly.

“That is also true,” Lestat kissed my cheek. “Come on, my darlings. There are still plenty of flights with openings in first class.”

I made a soft sound of frustration; Lestat had been beastly on the flight over. I had the feeling the dreadful experience he’d had flying as a mortal hadn’t quite left him. Unfortunately, he heard me, and he gave me a _look_. Honestly, those sunglasses had to be more for effect than to conceal his eyes.

“Unless you think you can make it to New Orleans tonight on your own,” he said, “because one of us is going to have to carry Louis.”

Louis sighed heavily. “It is so cold, flying that way.”

Lestat looked very upset, now, but not with either of us.

“We need a private jet,” he huffed, “why haven’t I bought one yet? Armand has at least three…”

He stormed out of the store, and Louis waited until he was out and into the street before he began to laugh. I did the same, and together we walked out of the bookstore, in pursuit of our petulant darling.

\--

Louis and I went straight to the house, once we landed, but Lestat did not. We didn’t have to wait long before he and Mojo were bounding through the front door in a great tumult of excitement. Lestat all but fell to the floor and wrapped his arms around Mojo’s neck, petting him enthusiastically and fluffing up his thick grey fur. Mojo, for his part, was elated, his great pink tongue flapping about as he licked whatever part of Lestat’s face he could reach. Louis and I watched the display from the end of the hall, well out of the way of fur or fang.

“Has he gotten bigger?” Louis asked softly.

I peered at the cavorting playmates for a moment and studied the muscles of Mojo’s legs, the size of his snout. I compared it with the memory of hardly a few weeks before, and my eyebrows lifted just a little.

“Good lord, I think he has.” I sighed. “That stands to reason, I suppose. Can’t imagine James fed him very well, given how they hated each other.”

I looked over at Louis, and I was genuinely stunned by the warmth in his smile. The melancholy immortal was somewhere far away right now, and he looked so _human_ , even with his white skin and his shining eyes. Louis wore darkness the way he wore silk and velvet. It suited him. Hell, it looked gorgeous on him. That didn’t mean he was any less beautiful when he _glowed_ like this.

God, no wonder Lestat had fallen for him.

Slowly, he stepped back into the hall, and I followed, leaving Lestat and Mojo to their reunion. When we reached the study, he turned, and I lingered in the doorway for a moment as he switched on the light. I didn’t say anything, didn’t really step into the study. I just watched him, as he ran his hand idly over the books stacked on the desk.

There was a gentle grace to him, understated, uninterested in its presentation. How striking it was, after seeing the golden god Lestat had made of himself. And he was quiet, _very_ quiet compared to his garrulous lover. His whole being reminded me of a night with no moon, its beauty unembellished and captivating. It neither needed nor asked for your attention or your praise. It was not interested in showing you where its danger lay, but make no mistake, it was there.

At last, he chose a book from the surface of the desk, and only then did he look up at me. He wasn’t smiling anymore. Instead, his face had settled into that familiar alabaster mask of calm.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, and then he held me firmly by the jaw and kissed me.

He felt cold, colder than Lestat, and I couldn’t help but wonder why. The way he kissed was slow, almost methodical, and I felt myself relaxing, bit by bit. I didn’t so much as lift a hand, because I didn’t think I needed to. I didn’t need any more than this. Too quickly, he let me go, and I missed him terribly.

“I’m very glad you’re here,” he said.

With a slow stride, he walked to the armchair by the bookshelf and took a seat. He said nothing else, didn’t so much as look at me. He just opened his book, his hand gliding sensuously over the page, feeling how real it was, and then he was still.

By the time I had turned and stepped out of the study, I knew for sure that I loved him.

\--

Lestat had made a marvelous decision, when he had decided to equip the house with gas lamps, as well as electric. Certainly they weren’t near so bright, but none of us needed that. The yellow flame gave the house a warm sort of glow, the kind only real, living fire could provide. When Lestat had told me about the restoration, I’d almost laughed. Vampires often seemed so nostalgic, but now I was beginning to understand why. There was beauty in this house that I felt fortunate to see, as though Lestat had shown me something rare and precious.

Of course, it looked a bit strange with the television cabinet wide open, its tremendous screen flooding the room with light. Lestat didn’t help things by lounging on the sofa in skin-squeezing jeans and a printed t-shirt, a shirt that bore the name and logo of his former band, because of _course_ he would. He still looked gorgeous, obviously, but the light from the TV overshadowed the lamps, giving the whole room a bit of an ashen pallor. Even Mojo, who lay snoozing on the floor, one ear twitching, snuffles and sighs his only sounds, looked ghostly grey.

I wanted to turn the thing off, to get a good look at Lestat in the light that suited him best. It would start an argument, I knew...unless I presented him with a diversion he enjoyed more than television. There was an idea.

I was about to step into the room and act on it when I heard the soft close of the front door. A few gentle footfalls, the soft sound of a jacket being unzipped and set on a hook, and then I saw Louis standing in the doorway across the room.

He looked at Lestat first, but Lestat hadn’t so much as looked away from whatever nonsense he was watching. Then, he looked at me, and perhaps he saw some sign of the idea I had, or perhaps he had a very similar one all on his own. Either way, his eyes flicked down to Lestat again, and then back to me, and now they were gleaming in that way I loved.

 _There_ was an idea.

In exquisite unison, we stepped into the room and sat down on either side of him. Louis turned Lestat’s face toward him, my hand brushed over his hair, and as Louis kissed his lips, I did the same to his neck.

Lestat made a soft noise of surprise, perhaps even dismay, and when Louis let him go he looked slowly between the two of us.

“What’s this, then?” he asked. “Are my dark-haired beauties trying to have their way with me?”

“If you like,” I grinned at him.

“And you will like it,” Louis said.

Lestat actually looked nervous for a moment, but then he gave a bright, razor-sharp grin, and his cocksure self was back.

“Promise?” he asked.

Quickly, we lifted him from the sofa, and a few moments later we arrived in the bedroom in a sort of tangle. Lestat landed on the bed and immediately grabbed at Louis’s shirt, yanking it over his head and then reaching for mine. It was a miracle any of our clothing lived to see the morning, with the way he pulled at us. He seemed to like it when things tore, the frantic way he tried as quickly as possible to reach our skin.

When we were all entirely unclothed, Louis sat behind Lestat, and he looked over his shoulder and raked his eyes over my body, not even trying to hide the hunger in his gaze. His arm came up around Lestat’s waist, and Lestat took hold of his hands with a contented hum. He leaned back into Louis, turned his head enough to nuzzle into the crook of his neck, and then looked at me with equal hunger.

Seeing such desire from both of them at once, I couldn’t help but shiver. It was almost too much to bear. I leaned forward against Lestat, so we were pressed to either side of him. Louis met me halfway, and we kissed above his shoulder. Lestat gave the softest gasp of surprise.

“Now, when did that happen?” he asked.

Louis didn’t answer, and I figured it didn’t matter, so neither did I. I kissed Lestat now, working a hand in his hair, loving the way our bodies slid together. Louis kissed his neck, and one of Lestat’s arms reached behind him, trying to grasp at the back of Louis’s head. Louis laughed, low and resonant.

“Don’t be impatient, now,” he said. “We’re going to enjoy this.”

Lestat made a soft sound of indignation. I laughed softly, completely unsurprised that Louis had heard everything through the hotel doors. Louis looked at me now, though Lestat was still glaring sideways at him.

“He sounded so lovely, when you had your fingers in him,” he said. “I’d like to see it firsthand. What do you think of that, _mon coeur_?”

Lestat’s glare lost its venom, and now he reached over and pet Louis’s hair.

“So generous, Louis. Won’t you get lonely back there?”  

“Oh, I’ll find something to do,” he kissed Lestat’s neck. “Shall I drink from you, while he breaks you apart?”

Lestat moaned aloud, and his hips rolled up against me. I leaned over to reach for the nightstand, where I’d stored Lestat’s gift, but then I stopped, looked back at Louis.

“Show me,” I said.

Lestat’s eyes went wide, and he looked almost panicked for a moment.

“Do we really need to do this right now?” he asked.

“Yes,” I nodded. “I’m going to find out one way or another, so it may as well be now.”

Louis looked at me for a moment, studying my expression, then he reached for my hand.

“I’ll make it easy for you, this time,” he said, and then the corner of his mouth twitched.

He brought my hand up to his mouth and sealed his lips around the middle two fingers, drawing them in until he reached the palm. I felt his tongue sliding over them, hot and incredibly slick. When he released me, his lips were red, and my fingers dripped with his blood. I just looked at it for a moment. I had sort of understood, in a hazy way, what I hadn’t seen – _David, we’re vampires!_ It was different to see it for myself, to understand what I was meant to do with it. It didn’t stop me.

When I reached down, Lestat grabbed for me, pulling me toward him by the back of the neck. He brought me into a bruising kiss as I slid one finger into him, shortly followed by the second. I heard the wet sound of Louis’s bite a fraction of a second before Lestat moaned into my mouth. My fingers curled, Lestat moved with me as much as he could, and I felt his fingertips press at my neck when I did something he really liked.

“David,” he sighed against my lips, “oh fuck, David, keep going…”

His other hand fisted tight in Louis’s hair, keeping him at his neck, and the smell of his blood was so strong I knew I had to taste it again. I drew back to bite his lip, but he flinched away, and instead I watched him nick his tongue with a grin. He pulled me back in, giving me that bloody kiss I loved so much, and a long, low moan rumbled through my chest. I wanted him terribly, wanted to have him writhing under me again, but I was in no hurry. For once, it seemed Lestat wasn’t, either. _Greedy devil._

Close as we all were, I felt it the second Louis’s hand began to slide between us. When he took Lestat in his hand, I actually felt the drag of his knuckles, and with equal strength I felt Lestat break off from my mouth and wail.

“Damn it, Louis, that isn’t fair,” he whined, but he made no motion to stop him.

What he did do was lean forward and bury his teeth in my neck, and what did _that_ feel like, I wondered, to be connected to two people in such different ways? I swear I heard Louis laugh, but it was drowned out quickly by a high, breathless moan from Lestat. Another followed shortly, then another, and he gripped my neck so hard, his nails dug into my skin. He shook hard enough that his teeth actually unlatched from me, so the fractured scream that tore out of him echoed through the room. He squeezed hard around my fingers, and I heard Louis moan loudly, moving his hand even faster, drawing the blood from him above and below.

Louis let him go first, and gently, I did the same. We held him between us, his head fallen onto my shoulder, his breathing deep and heavy, his hands fallen to his sides. I smiled at Louis, who smiled back, and then leaned over Lestat to kiss me.

“I’d say we make a fairly good team,” I said.

“I rather agree.”

He gave Lestat a considering look, as his head was lifting slowly from my shoulder. When Lestat caught sight of his expression, his head snapped up immediately.

“Oh, I know that look,” he said, a slow smile making its way across his features.

“Do you think we should turn you around?” Louis asked, and now I’d rather lost the thread of their conversation.

Lestat looked at me, biting his lip as his eyes traveled over me, and then back to Louis.

“I like the way you think, Louis,” he grinned.

I wondered if I should say something, but then Lestat wound an arm over my shoulder and pressed a kiss to the side of my face.

“He wants you to fuck me while I’m inside of him,” he whispered. “I want that, too. I want you to grab me by the hair and make me scream. I want to feel your teeth and Louis’s on either side of my neck. Would you like that, David?”

Just his words made me shudder.

“God, yes.”

With a smile, Louis gathered Lestat into his arms, turning him so Lestat faced away from me.

“Lay down,” he said, nodding to the space beside them. “We need you to be patient for a short while.”

“Enjoy the show, while you’re there,” Lestat added.

I reclined beside them, watching with interest as Lestat pushed Louis down onto his back. Louis gasped softly, his hands coming up to Lestat’s shoulders. One of Lestat’s hands slid slowly down Louis’s chest, while his tongue slid across the length of his collarbone. Louis gave a soft sigh, and I saw his eyes roll over to where I lay.

“We haven’t done it this way since the island,” he remarked.

“No, we haven’t,” Lestat agreed, letting his other hand roam across Louis’s chest, “and our roles were reversed, then.”

“Some of the time,” Louis said. “You had your turn more than once.”

“The island?” I asked. I had some idea of what they meant, but I knew if I didn’t ask, they’d lose me. This was a problem I often had, when dealing with vampires. There was so much history between them, they seemed to speak their own language sometimes.

“The Night Island,” Lestat said, turning to grin at me. “You would have loved it, David.”

“And it would have loved you,” said Louis.

Lestat’s hand slid over the inside curve of Louis’s hip, and then underneath. I watched intently, fairly sure I knew what he was going to do, but wanting to know for certain. A flick of his fingernail above, and from a small cut, the blood began to flow. It coated his fingers as he slid them in, and Louis’s head rolled back with a groan. Lestat pulled him into a long, lingering kiss, catching the soft sounds he made.

“Oh Louis, _mon cher_ ,” he grinned, and his voice was low and terrible. “You’re far too tempting. Just the sight of you is irresistible. You’re going to find yourself in serious trouble, someday.”

The nails of his other hand scratched violently over Louis’s chest, leaving bright stripes of red behind. Louis gasped, let his head fall back, and his hands grasped tightly at the sheets beside him. If anything, now he looked even more tempting, and when Lestat dug his nails into him again, new scratches dragging across the marks already there, he jumped.

“I think,” he took a deep breath. “I think I may have already found it.”

Lestat gave a low, ominous hum of amusement, and then he grabbed Louis savagely by the hair.

“You have no idea.”

He bit down hard on Louis’s neck and began to drink with urgency, enough that the veins under Louis’s skin became more and more visible. Louis screamed, and then his hand grabbed at Lestat’s hair and pulled, which did nothing but make Lestat moan into his skin. I felt a pang of genuine fear; I knew Lestat wasn’t seriously hurt by being drained, but what of Louis? Then, I saw the briefest flash of a smile tug at Louis’s mouth, gone in less time than it took to blink, but it was enough.

I placed one hand over my mouth to muffle the sound that left me. Not out of any sort of shame, of course, but because I didn’t want to interrupt them. Lestat’s fingers quickened suddenly, and Louis’s voice twisted high and thready as he began to rapidly lose his breath. Lestat let go of his neck, removed his hand, and looked down at him, smiling at the way the blood had begun to drip between the scratches. I wondered why they hadn’t healed, and then I realized Louis had lost so much blood, they couldn’t.

“You look so good in red,” Lestat murmured.

“Lestat...” Louis whispered, his eyes pinching for a moment, perhaps from pain. “Please. _Please_ , Lestat…”

Lestat laughed softly, then leaned down and ran his tongue over the shining red marks, smearing the blood between them.

“Is there something you want, Louis?”

Louis gasped, pried his hands from the covers and ran them both through Lestat’s hair.

“Make me yours.”

Lestat’s eyes flashed like I’d never seen before, and there was such _triumph_ in them. He lay down atop Louis and ran his hands over his face, giving him a gentle smile I didn’t trust in the slightest.

“Louis…” he whispered. “darling, precious Louis…”

He moved one of Louis’s hands from his face, and then he pressed a nail to the side of his neck.

“You’ve been mine for centuries.”

He sliced through the skin, as though he needed to, and the blood began to pour from him. He lifted Louis’s head just enough for him to reach the wound, and with a great cry, Louis began to drink. His arms came up around Lestat, clinging to him tightly, and I watched Lestat’s eyes slip shut into an expression of quiet satisfaction. The veins under Louis’s skin began to recede, just a little at a time, and when he let go, he was almost pink.

Lestat sat up until he was nearly upright, and I shivered a little when I realized that the little spots and streaks of red on his chest had come from Louis. The cuts themselves were healed, and now Louis’s hands were in the sheets again, and he trembled faintly as he looked up at Lestat.

“ _Lestat…_ ” he whispered.

“Yes, my love?” Lestat smiled down at him. “Do you want more?”

Louis gave a shuddering sigh. “Please.”

Lestat kissed him with surprising tenderness, and I could have watched as he shifted back and entered Louis, but I didn’t. My attention was fixed on Louis’s face, on the panting, shivering way he moaned, and then the way his arms lifted to embrace Lestat before he’d even come back down. He held him frightfully close, desperately close, keening softly as Lestat began to move. Lestat’s eyes softened a little, but only a little. There was still an edge to his gaze when he kissed Louis deeply, and when he let go, he spoke in a sonorous purr.

“Oh it feels good, doesn’t it, Louis?” he said. “Knowing you belong to me.”

Louis didn’t say any actual words, but the way his legs came up around Lestat’s back spoke volumes. I shuddered, wondering if I shouldn’t just take myself in hand and be done with it. Nothing else was going to arouse me like this tonight. Not if Lestat kept talking like this.

“You’re _mine_ , Louis,” Lestat murmured. “Mine to have, mine to hold. My body to love, my blood to drink. My heart to break, my heart to mend.”

The moan Louis let out now sounded much closer to a sob. He buried his face in Lestat’s neck, but it didn’t sound like he bit down. Honestly, it didn’t sound like he did anything but continue with the hitching, sobbing sort of moans that left him. Lestat gasped faintly, kissed what parts of Louis he could reach, and his voice was a little softer now.

“…you know you’re mine. You _want_ to be mine.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Louis gasped, so softly I barely even heard him.

Something shifted palpably in the air between them. For a moment, then two, Lestat just held onto him, letting his eyes shut and moving in a steady, unrelenting rhythm. Then he shook, all the way down his spine, and he took hold of Louis’s hair and drew him back down. Louis blinked a couple of times before he spoke, as though clearing his head.

“You’re ready for him?” he asked, and I jumped, because evidently I was part of this, now.

“Absolutely,” Lestat said with a grin. “You’re going to want to see this.”

Louis looked over at me and just nodded toward Lestat.

“You know what to do.”

I did not need to be told twice. I was furiously aroused, now, to the point where my skin tingled with it. In a moment, I had moved up and settled behind Lestat, setting one hand on his shoulder for balance. He had slowed himself, for the moment, and he tossed his hair over one shoulder to look at me.

“Don’t you dare hold back,” he said.

I copied the trick he had done to Louis, flick of the fingernail, rush of warmth, and then I bit my lip so as not to drown out the cry he gave as I entered him. God, that heat…I wondered if I would ever get used to this. I prayed I wouldn’t. I saw Lestat’s hands bunch up the fabric of the sheets, his eyes shut tight as his back curved up to meet me. Under him, Louis leaned up and kissed the underside of his jaw, and I could hear his smile as he spoke.

“Aren’t you a lucky devil?” he murmured. “Move, David. Let me feel it.”

 _Bless_ this body, bless the quick thinking and graceful movement that came with the dark gift. It didn’t take long before our movements were coordinated, perhaps a bit syncopated, but Lestat seemed to like that. He seemed incapable of speech at the moment, holding tightly to the sheets and just moving with me. Now that I had my rhythm, I remembered one of the things he had said before we’d begun all this – and before, in Rio.

I slid my hand into the gold waves of his hair and took hold of it, tugging so that his head tilted backward. He moaned so loudly, his voice broke for a moment, and when Louis began to kiss the now-exposed skin of his throat, he moaned again.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hissed, “don’t stop. Don’t let go, David. Please.”

 _There_ was a word I hadn’t expected to hear from him tonight, if ever. Louis brought his arms up around Lestat’s back, and by our separate points, we held him. I caught Louis’s eye, and he licked his lips so gently, I wondered if he was aware he’d done it. Keeping my hand fastened tight, I leaned down so we touched completely, and I felt one of his hands slip from Lestat’s back so it could come to hold me by the head. We kissed hungrily, Lestat pressed snugly between us, his desperate cries ringing loud in our ears.

He let me go, his hand returning to hold Lestat between us, and when he kissed Lestat’s neck now, he bit. He let go at once, kissing open-mouthed at the mark before he moved to the side opposite me. I made my own bite over it and drank deeply, punctuating the action with a sharp thrust of my hips. From the sound of it, Louis was drinking from him on the other side of his neck, and Lestat’s body began to tremble between us.

“ _Ohh…_ ” he sighed, and the sound trailed off into a whine. “Oh, you make me feel so good…”

I felt him try to move his head, and then stop. When I opened my eyes, it was easy to understand. He had made to drink from Louis, but my grip on his hair was tight enough that he couldn’t reach. (Or at least, he was letting me think that.) He whined again, his eyes opening just enough to look back at me. I had never seen him look so unwound, so utterly lost, not even with me, or with Louis. Oh, this was a game I could happily play. I leaned in to whisper into his ear, my fingers unwinding in his hair.

“Take him,” I said.

“I love you,” he said, and then his head snapped down to Louis’s neck.

When he bit down, I heard them both moan loudly, and one of Louis’s hands came up to hold onto my arm. I slid my teeth back into the same bite as before, and to my surprise, I could feel Lestat – and _Louis_ , which was an absolute shock – as keenly as though they were both drinking from me. It was too much, too much for _anyone_ , the three of us all wound together in a burning circuit of bliss. There was such emotion in it, as well, a terrifying depth of love and desire, suffusing the hot coils of pleasure the way ink moves through water.

I don’t remember whose body it was that broke first. If I had to guess, I think it might have been Lestat, as overloaded as he was, near to tears with how good it felt to have both of us. But, once the spark had caught, the blaze spread, and I felt such, _such_ bliss tear through me, tears came to my eyes. I could hear Lestat sobbing into Louis’s throat, feel the desperation that flooded him even now, _don’t let it end, I want more, I want them to stay._ And Louis, human Louis, he felt it perhaps more strongly than either of us, his whole body completely overcome by it, unable to help it, unable to do anything but let it flow through him.

Louis’s head hit the mattress with a dull thump, when he let go of Lestat. When I could think clearly enough, I did the same, separating our bodies with perhaps excessive gentleness. I all but fell back to my place beside them, the most delightful exhaustion settling over me, if only for a moment. Lestat lifted up and lay between us, half on top of me, and for a long moment he said nothing. He took one arm and pulled me close to him, and Louis came to his other side without needing to be asked, and he looked lazily between us.

“My clever beauties,” he sighed contentedly. “Just how long have you been planning this?”

I blinked. “…since Louis arrived home.”

Louis said nothing, just rested his head on Lestat’s chest with a smile.

“Oh, I see,” Lestat ran his fingers gently through Louis’s hair. “You decided to improvise. Or did you just want to show off?”

He looked at me with one eyebrow lifted.

“He can be such a jealous thing,” he said. “Wants to share me so he can show off how much I adore him.”

“I’d say this time it worked,” I laughed softly.

Lestat’s cheeks pinkened, just a little, and he grinned at me, one hand doing its best to smooth my now-unruly hair.

“I certainly won’t hide it,” he said. “Oh, it’s so good to have you both here. My generous David…”

He looked down at Louis, now.

“My precious Louis.”

“My perfect Lestat,” Louis murmured, looking lovingly up at him.

Lestat’s eyes softened in a way I had never seen before, and have not since.

“Yours,” he whispered.

The weight of the word landed on my chest like a stone. I felt panicky again, like I wasn’t supposed to be here. This was such an intensely _private_ sort of thing, it couldn’t have been meant for my ears.

“David,” Lestat said, looking at me now with sadness, “are you ever going to believe me, when I say that I love you?”

I just gaped at him for a moment, not sure what to say. Of course I believed him, or at least I thought I did. He leaned in and kissed my forehead, and somehow that felt more intimate than any other touch he had ever given me. Louis, seeming to sense my shock, took one of my hands in his own, bringing it close to his chest.

“This house is perfectly spacious,” Lestat said. “There’s more than enough room for you.”

I had no idea what to say. I knew, of course, that they weren’t just talking about the physical house. This was a coven, they wished to form. Except, that word seemed so inadequate. It seemed like there wasn’t a word that would suffice, especially not when Louis brought my hand up to his mouth and kissed it.

I just held onto them both for a moment, trying and failing to understand that this was real. This was as real as the spirits, as real as the vampire rock star currently nuzzling his face into my neck. To think, I could have died, I would have died, never knowing this was possible. To think I had convinced myself that death was preferable. God, what a fool I had been.

“…I think I’d like that.”

God, what a fool I still was.

\--

The television was off. There was a fire crackling merrily behind its little filigree grate, and the lamps burned low. Mojo and Lestat were snuggled up together in front of the hearth, Lestat’s face buried in his fur. Louis sat beside me on the sofa, seemingly entranced by the glimmers and waves of light coming from the fireplace.

The question I’d been holding onto since the night of our arrival refused to be contained any longer. I’d been trying to wait until we were out of earshot of Lestat – which was _far_ – but I just couldn’t, anymore.

“Was it really improvisation?”

Louis didn’t look at me, but he grinned.

“Partially.”

“That’s what I thought,” I said. “Lestat had a point; you were showing off.”

“I was,” he turned to me now. “I hope you didn’t mind.”

“Hardly,” I laughed. “Really, though, when did that idea come to you?”

Louis looked at Lestat for a moment, then back to me. Lestat hadn’t moved, nor had he spoken. If he wanted to join this conversation, he would.

“The day you arrived,” Louis said, “in this house, wearing this body, with Lestat’s blood in your veins.”

He shifted a little closer, sliding his hand gently over my shoulder and arm.

“When you were mortal, Lestat talked ceaselessly of how he loved you, of how it killed him to know you wouldn’t take the gift. He would arrive at my house – the one he burned – and until dawn, he would recount your conversations. He described the way you spoke, the way the light cast shadows over you, the sound of your heartbeat as it began to weaken. He adores you, David.”

My cheeks felt warm, now. I looked over at Lestat, but he still hadn’t moved.

“You adore him too,” Louis said.

“Yes,” I agreed, “and you.”

Louis moved over until he was right beside me, our legs touching on the brocade cushion of the sofa.

“Lestat painted such a picture of you,” he whispered. “It was beautiful, absolutely marvelous. It was the image of a man I thought I could easily love. I thought he was exaggerating, favoring your better traits, because he loved you.”

He gave me a slow, playful kiss.

“I’ve never been so happy to be wrong.”

With a smile, I wrapped my arms around him, and then I lay back, so he was resting on top of me. Stretched across the sofa, I could almost feel his heartbeat, and with a deep, indulgent breath, I let my eyes slip closed.

I could get used to this.


End file.
